


Soaking Away Sorrows

by dearxalchemist



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Bathing/Washing, F/M, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gaby gets hurt and Illya takes care of her, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-02
Updated: 2016-03-02
Packaged: 2018-05-24 09:50:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6149701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dearxalchemist/pseuds/dearxalchemist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The bathwater is hot and Illya’s knees are sticking out on either side of her like two islands along the clouded water. Her bones are heavy and her eyes are even heavier as she leans back into his chest. Being an agent of U.N.C.L.E. is much harder than her previous job in the little German garage. Her body is not quite used to the abuse yet, especially after tonight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soaking Away Sorrows

**Author's Note:**

  * For [redbrunja](https://archiveofourown.org/users/redbrunja/gifts).



> For RedBrunja and her wonderful prompt: How about Illya draws a bath for Gaby and maybe washes her hair for her? Either because she's injured or just because.

The bathwater is hot and Illya’s knees are sticking out on either side of her like two islands along the clouded water. Her bones are heavy and her eyes are even heavier as she leans back into his chest. Being an agent of U.N.C.L.E. is much harder than her previous job in the little German garage. Her body is not quite used to the abuse yet, especially after tonight. Their night had started so normal and fair. Illya had dressed Gaby in all black while Solo walked her through another lock picking lesson. She was only supposed to be in the building for a matter of minutes and back out again. Only her cat burglar skills were sub-par and when gunshots cracked against the empty air, she high tailed it out of the building the only way she could go. It just happen to be out a window of the second story, but she had managed to catch onto a nearby tree. Her hands were bruised and scraped up, along with her legs. Her muscles screamed when Illya had pulled her into the tub.

He had been so gentle about it all. Collecting her outside of the warehouse, leaning over her with a crown of stars over his head and heaving her up. He carried her like she was nothing. Russian endearments slipped from his lips and down onto her forehead. She had barely felt them moving, but she could hear the words clear as day, echoing in her ears and running her insides warm. Her dirty fingers had curled into his sweat and refused to let go, even when he got them back to the idling car with Solo behind the wheel. With a curt nod to their teammate, Illya had climbed carefully in the back seat with the small mechanic in his arms. His fingers found solace in running lines back and forth over her upper arm, while worry ate him from the inside out. He had been worried when she went in alone and his heart had nearly stopped when the sound of gunfire had echoed across the grounds. Napoleon had the car and Illya, Illya was running for the building. He had heard the glass shatter and then saw the little mechanic launch herself towards the nearest tree. She could have died. Her fine little neck could have snapped. He didn't want to think about it and pushed those thoughts away. He could be fixated on the possibilities later, right now he had her in his arms.

From there Gaby must have closed her eyes, because the next recollection she has is being set on the cool bathroom counter. The expensive marble chilling her even with her clothes on as Illya went to work on the tub. He leaned over the basin and ran the water hot. Steam rose from the claw-foot tub, filling the room with a rush of heat and delicate smell of something soft, like lavender. The mirrors behind her fogged up, blotting out the sight of Illya pulling his shirt off slowly. Gaby leaned back against the counter, the back of her head touching the cold glass of the mirror as she watched the man before her undress. He moves so gracefully for a man shaped by the KGB to kill. She watched the muscles move under his skin as he worked off his belt and then pants, folding his clothes and setting them aside. He left his boxers on as he moved back for her. Almost automatically she let her legs slide apart, letting him move in as close as possible with the counter being their only barrier. With her head back against the glass, Gaby closed her eyes as his hand came up. Calloused fingers brushed away her bangs and then traced down to the edge of her black turtleneck. He had dressed her specifically tonight to be a spy. 

His fingers marveled along the soft fabric of the shirt before he gathered her up, pulling her away from the mirror. His hands smoothed over the small of her back, tracing down to the edge of the shirt before pulling it up. He carefully pulled the fabric away and folded it with such care before he moved forward once again. His hands traced down along the curve of her shoulders, plucking at the strap of her brassiere just to listen to it snap against her skin lightly. It drew a small smile across her lips, a tired lazy one that she buried against the front of his chest. Gaby sucked in a sharp breath, inhaling the sharp scent of gunpowder and leather that was all Illya. Her body melted forward against his own as he pulled off her brassiere and then traced those careful hands down the curve of her waist where he found the button on her black pants. Even with her limp responses, he managed to tug her pants down each one of her legs. His hands stroking along the worn out muscles, lips dangerously close to her knees. Gaby leans up just enough for him to slip the last bit of clothing down and then she’s naked, being gathered up in her comrade’s arms. He lifts her again and carries her to the steaming tub. The water is full and splashes over the edge in small tidal waves as he sets her inside carefully. Gaby’s muscles twitch and tense before she manages to relax long enough for Illya to cut the water off. Soft bubbles brush along her neck and she’s a lazy smile when he finally joins her. 

Illya gently pushes Gaby up enough to let himself sink into the water behind her. More water splashes over the edge of the tub, but neither one of them pay it any mind as Illya pulls her back against him and lets her relax. His fingers move for a spare rag set off of the side and he pulls that down into the tub with them. With careful hands he lathers up the cloth and starts with her dirty arms. The water is clouded from soap and oil as Illya carefully runs the rag over the bend of her elbow, trying to wash away the ache from her impromptu escape. A soft sigh leaves her lips and she’s practically boneless against the hot water, watching as his knees slide up on either side of her form, trapping her in. His legs squeeze gently around her slender form and she settles back, hair sticking against his chest as he runs the rag along the edge of her collarbone. Small bubbles spread along her skin and Gaby hums quietly when he washes them away. He is very careful with her. 

He has the utmost care and respect for the small mechanic. He refuses to let her lift a finger as she lays against him. Instead, Illya takes all the responsibility for cleaning away her aches and pains. He lets his hands trace maps along her flesh, memorizing every dip and curve, pausing to brush the pads of his fingers over little pale scars from poor treatment in the past. Before she can relax too much, he is pushing her forward and lifting her off of his chest. Gaby turns her head back but, he stops her. A wet palm touches her cheek and turns her head up before warm water rushes over her crown. The water sinks down into her hair and down her face in tiny rivers. It makes her smile, lips twisting up into something of a happy grin as he does it again until all of her hair is wet. Her chest shakes with a soft laugh as he tangles his fingers into her wet locks and scrubs gently. The smell of hotel soap permeates her senses as he carefully strokes along her scalp.

His fingers are tangled in her dark hair as he scrubs, smiling softly at the way she’s shaking with soft laughter, “Would you tell me what is so funny?” He asks quietly, his accent washing over his words carefully. 

Gaby hasn’t quite mastered Russian yet. She’s getting there and hopefully with a few more private lessons, she’ll understand him fluently but for now, he sticks to English for her. His hands slide from the crown of her head to the soft ends of her hair. She tilts her head back some, tongue poking out along her bottom lip just so she can catch a glimpse of him.

“Oh nothing,” She hums with a soft snicker behind her words. Her tan skin is flushed red with the hot water. Illya thinks she’s beautiful all the time, but right now there is something ethereal about her. She is glowing almost heavenly, with her wet hair sticking along her shoulders and back. He strokes his fingers lower, slowly detangling her thick hair before dragging his hands away. She hums quietly under his attention, “It’s just, you’re so kind.” 

“This is problem?” He asks carefully as he moves to tilt her head back for him again. He carefully scoops up water and lets it run over her hair once more. He works carefully and methodically on her hair. With gentle hands he makes sure all the soap is gone from her hair as he goes to work the tangles free. 

“Just different,” She sighs back into his massaging fingers and contemplates her words. The man behind her is a trained and sculpted killer. He has small episodes of rage that strike fear in the pit of her belly, but never once has struck her. His hands now are just as gentle as they always are with her. With Solo he is a completely different person, not soft but not his usual strained attitude. 

“You are just being spoiled, I am only kind to you.” He tells her knowingly with a soft click of his tongue. Only his matter of fact voice is quickly erased as his chest rumbles with a soft laugh against her back. She smiles to no one in particular because it’s true. Illya’s hands are soft only for her, his voice lowers just for her to hear and he makes sure that she is the first dressed for a mission. He also has terms of endearment that she only gets to hear when it’s just the two of them. 

He washes her hair until it’s clean and then he takes his time to make sure the rest of her is as well. Bits of dirt float along the top of the water, but Gaby ignores it all as she sinks back into the feeling of Illya. He is still warm as the bathwater runs cool. He takes his time with her, pressing a kiss to the back of her neck before gathering her up. With careful grace and strength, he pulls her up out of the bathtub with him. They splash water everywhere before she’s set back on the counter top and wrapped in a hotel robe. Illya wraps a spare towel around his waist before he takes the last one and carefully pulls Gaby to the edge of the counter. She tilts her head back, lashes thick with water clinging to them and for a moment she think’s he’s going to kiss her. His lips aren’t far from her own but he surprises her with something else. The towel gently slides over her hair and he goes to work drying her locks before dabbing the cloth along the edge of her face and down to the crook of her neck. He soaks up rogue water drops before she can’t take it anymore. Gaby’s patience runs thin and she leans up with what little strength she has and catches his mouth with her own. The kiss is warm and soft, much like how she’s feeling wrapped up in a the plush robe. 

Then before she can respond anymore, he’s pulling back. His lips press over the tip of her nose and then once more down against her forehead before he finishes toweling her off. He works on her hands and legs, before sinking to his knees and carefully drying off the slopes of her calves to her toes. Gaby can’t help but smile as she leans back a bit, letting him have his way for tonight. She is too tired to object, her body is too sore to do much of anything and while he’s taking care of her, sleep is calling. 

It doesn’t take Illya long to gather her up. She’s pressed into his chest all over again, much like outside of the warehouse. Only this time there are no stars behind him, no dark inky sky to remind her that they need to stay grounded and quiet. Her vision swims with sleep as she feels him carry her across the bathroom and back into the shared hotel suite. Paris is beautiful, but her shared room with her supposed fiance is much nicer. Even more so when he pulls her back in bed with him. There’s no need for clothes as he keeps her wrapped up in the robe, his arms locked around her. The bed is clean with the warm scent of lavender surrounding her. She’s warm and safe in Illya’s arms. Her pain and soreness slowly ebb away as sleep catches her in it’s claws and pulls her under. Gaby’s insomnia is no match for Illya. He stays in bed with her until she’s fully asleep and then stays a few minutes more. Whether or not this is right is not up to them. Eventually they won’t have nights like these, but he pretends for as long as he can that this is his bed and this is the woman he loves.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading. All your comments and kudos mean the world to me. I constantly accept praise and prompts on my tumblr here @elektranatchiohs. Also, I did not send this to a beta so all mistakes are my own.


End file.
